Retarded Heart
by Liz Huisman
Summary: My mind has it down pat, but my heart? Damn this heart. Retarded heart... that's it. I have a retarded heart.


Title: Retarded Heart  
  
Author: Liz Huisman  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: Um. not really. Not that I know of.  
  
Disclaimer: Well, this one's easy. They're not mine. Duh! Anyone could have told you that.  
  
A/N: I HAVE A SITE! I HAVE A SITE! Sorry. My fanfics are archived at:  
  
http://westwinger.tripod.com It's up-and-coming, but I hope you'd all go take a looksie! There are three un-fanfiction.net-released stories, and I'd like people's comments on them too! Thank you!  
  
Summary: "My mind has it down pat, but my heart? Damn this heart. Retarded heart. that's it. I have a retarded heart."  
  
  
  
  
  
**^^**^^**  
  
  
  
Donna. That name brings five types of flutters to my heart. But I don't think I love her. I KNOW I don't love her.  
  
I don't love her. Why not, you must ask? She's not my type.  
  
But that's a lame excuse. Let's try again.  
  
I know she loves me. I know, I know. I never even acknowledge it. But seriously, I'm really not that dense. I can see she cares about me. Loves me. A lot. Or why else would she stay with me all this time? She wouldn't. Shelly didn't. Or Kristy. Or Kristen. Or Maggie. Or Theresa. Or Kathryn. Or Jennifer. Or Sheila. Or Tonya. Or Elizabeth. Or.  
  
I'm sure you get it. None of my many other assistants have stayed nearly as long as Donna. And that's not because she's just a naturally devoted person, either. Maybe it's part of it, but not the whole thing.  
  
She loves me.  
  
I don't, though. It's not her looks, because she is one of the most beautiful women I've ever met. It's not her personality either, because she can be one of the funniest, as well. It's just. well, really, I can't explain it. Not really. All I can really say is, it's not love for me.  
  
You probably think I'm crazy. Maybe I am. But it's just not her.  
  
My mind knows I don't love Donna. I could say it fifty times, and I would know I wasn't lying. My conscience could tell that, as well.  
  
My mind has it down pat, but my heart? Damn this heart. Retarded heart. that's it. I have a retarded heart. It doesn't know that I don't love her. It won't listen to the fact that I don't love her.  
  
There's someone else that's causing this. Someone else, that, in my mind, I love. My heart won't listen to me on this one, though. It's dead set on Donna. I love this other person, so very much, in my mind. But my heart doesn't believe my mind. Maybe it doesn't trust my mind, and that's why this is happening.  
  
Or maybe, it's someone else's heart.  
  
That's the only way I can explain this. This heart belongs to someone else. Someone else should be loving Donna the way my heart does. And maybe, just maybe, whoever it is that this heart belongs to, they're, at this moment, loving her in their mind, but their heart's loving someone else. Maybe I'm not the only person in this situation.  
  
But that's also probably way too fairytale-ish. Somehow, I think it's just that my mind loves this person so much that it can't love Donna.  
  
I'll admit it. I used to love Donna. There was a time, in our bizarre relationship, where I really did love her. But that love just kind of faded. Maybe it's a good thing nothing ever happened. It wouldn't have lasted. She would have been hurt, and I would have been out yet another assistant. Good help is so hard to come by.  
  
I know Donna still loves me. In a way, that makes me angry, because she'll never know that the feeling's not mutual. Unless I tell her straight out, which would be callous, even for me.  
  
That brings me to all of the other people that think there's some kind of mutual attraction between us. There was, at a time, but not now.  
  
During the campaign. I think that's when it was that I was in love with her. But as the old saying goes, things change. People grow. I grew to love a more, matured person.  
  
Not that Donna's not mature, but. she's not. I don't like the taste of foot. I'm just not going to go there.  
  
I know that there are about 30 different $25 pools going on when Donna and I are going to "see the light". Well, they can just keep on betting, and dreaming. It's not happening. Much to the chagrin of the greater portion of the White House staff.  
  
I can see one thing still confuses you. Who is that mysterious "other person"? Who is it that my mind pines for, but my heart is too full of Donna to see?  
  
I'd tell you, but. that'd be another story. 


End file.
